The Artist’s Masquerade

by Antonia Aquilante

  “And get yourself in a position of influence.”

  “Yes, though it’s been difficult. It’s frustrating how close-mouthed this family is. Well, most of them.”

  “I can see how that would be frustrating for you,” he said, but Velia seemed to miss the sarcasm this time.

  “Now, is there anything else you need to know?” She paused but continued on when he didn’t say anything. “I just wanted you to know they’re looking so you’ll be careful. But really, the chances of them finding you are so low. I know you’ll be fine, and soon enough, I’ll be married and you’ll be able to leave.”

  He nodded dully, his mind suddenly unable to cope with one more word. Luckily, he didn’t have to. Velia left after several more assurances that everything was going to be fine and would go exactly according to their plan. She didn’t seem to realize Flavian wasn’t reassured.

  He was far from reassured.

  He flopped into the chair closest to him, skirts crumpled around him. He didn’t bother straightening them. He was too busy trying not to be sick. Thoughts skittered through his mind, too many too fast to latch on to just one. What had just happened? He’d wanted to tell Velia about him and Cathal, and he’d ended up finding out she was a spy and the emperor of Ardunn was searching for him.

  That was worse than his father looking for him. If the emperor wanted Flavian’s Talent, he would never stop searching. What the emperor wanted, he got. Flavian would be looking over his shoulder for his entire life, and he had no idea where that life could be anymore.

  But there was another consideration, separate yet just as serious, if not with as direct a consequence for him. Velia was a spy for Ardunn, and she was living in Tournai’s royal palace and set to marry Cathal. Cathal, who was searching for spies. Had already caught one spy who might give up Velia at any moment.

  Velia needed to be warned that she might be caught soon.

  Cathal needed to know about the spy so close to him and his cousin.

  Velia was his friend, had been his friend for years. She’d helped him escape Ardunn. And she hadn’t told them where he was, which she was correct in thinking could go quite badly for her, and probably her family, if she was found out. He should tell her, warn her.

  But Cathal was his lover. His love, even if Flavian wasn’t ready to admit that aloud. He didn’t think he could face Cathal knowing what he knew. Velia’s actions put Cathal in danger, and not just Cathal but the princes and their son and all the people of Tournai. Ardunn could crush them all if Velia sent back enough information. Cathal’s image floated in his mind, the Cathal who smiled and looked at him with such tenderness. The very idea of Cathal in danger sickened him.

  Flavian leaned his head back against the chair, trying to breathe deeply, slowly. No matter what he did, he would betray someone he cared for, and he had no idea how to decide who.

  CONCENTRATION ELUDED Cathal. He’d been at his desk for some time attempting to catch up on correspondence that had gone unanswered while he was in the city dealing with the spy the last two days. The correspondence continued to go unanswered while he thought of Flavian, and what might happen between Flavian and Velia. He didn’t think Flavian would put off telling her, but with every moment that went by, Cathal became more uncertain.

  Etan had abandoned the office in rather dramatic fashion after becoming frustrated with Cathal’s inability to answer his questions or even listen to him. Cathal should feel bad about that, and perhaps he would later, but for the moment, he was grateful for the silence. It left him with his thoughts, true, but at least he didn’t have to concentrate on anything other than his thoughts.

  A rap on the door jolted him out of his musings. He sat up straighter. “Enter.”

  The door opened, and Flavian slipped inside, nearly closing his skirt in the door as he shut it behind him. Cathal would have laughed if Flavian had noticed, but he hadn’t. His face was blank, his eyes serious. He clutched his sketchbook to his chest as if it were a shield.

  Cathal bolted up from his chair but froze. He wanted to go to Flavian, to greet him with a kiss, or more than one kiss, since they were alone in the office and there was a lock on the door. But Flavian looked… haunted.

  Cathal’s blood turned to ice. He didn’t want to ask, but he had to. “Flavian, what’s wrong? Did you… did you talk to Velia?”

  Flavian nodded. “But I didn’t get the chance to tell her. About us.”

  Cathal’s gut twisted at the flat tone of Flavian’s voice. “What happened?”

  Flavian looked up into Cathal’s eyes for the first time. Seeing the pain flooding the cerulean depths of Flavian’s eyes, Cathal wanted to grab him and hold him, but Flavian shook his head. “I need to talk to you, to tell you something.”

  “Tell me.”

  “I should tell the princes at the same time, I think. What I need to say doesn’t just affect us.”

  “All right,” Cathal said slowly. He wished he knew what was going on. Maybe then he could make Flavian feel better. “We can go now.”

  “That would probably be best.”

  Cathal nodded and went to the door, but he stopped with his hand resting on the handle. “You’re scaring me. You look….”

  Flavian took Cathal’s hand and squeezed it. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to. Just, let me tell everyone, and you’ll understand, all right?”

  “Yes.”

  Flavian walked at Cathal’s side through the corridors, but he felt far away. Cathal wished he could have kept hold of Flavian’s hand, but that wasn’t possible, not yet. He could have taken Flavian’s arm, but the idea didn’t bring him any satisfaction, based as it would be on a pretense.

  Cathal knocked briefly on the door of Philip and Amory’s study, ushering Flavian inside after he heard Philip call out. Both Philip and Amory were present, Amory perched on the arm of Philip’s chair, reading something over Philip’s shoulder. Etan was also there, working at a small table in the corner, where he must have escaped to after he’d run out of patience with Cathal.

  Beside Cathal, Flavian was bowing to Philip and Amory, and Cathal snapped out of the stupor his concern for Flavian had caused. He bowed as well, then gestured Flavian forward.

  “Philip, Amory, Flavian has something to tell us,” Cathal said and positioned a chair in front of Philip’s desk for Flavian. Perhaps he should have waited for Philip’s invitation for them to sit, but he was more concerned with Flavian than with proprieties at the moment. Cathal pulled over another chair so he could sit next to Flavian.

  “Of course, Flavian,” Philip said, his gaze moving between Cathal and Flavian as if looking for an indication of what was going on, but Cathal had no information to give him. “Would you like Etan to leave?”

  Flavian glanced over his shoulder at Etan, who was still sitting at the table, and shook his head. “He can stay, Your Highness. I’m sure you’ll end up telling him later.”

  At Flavian’s words, Cathal became truly perplexed, and quick glances at Philip, Amory, and Etan showed them to be in the same state. Cathal rested a hand on one of Flavian’s, which was gripping his sketchbook so hard his knuckles were white. Flavian jumped and moved to pull away, but Cathal wouldn’t let him. “Will you tell us?”

  Flavian looked toward Philip and Amory and subsided, letting Cathal unclench his fingers from the sketchbook and rub them. “Yes.”

  Philip spoke when Flavian paused again. “If this is about your relationship with Cathal, you should know we’ll do whatever we can to help you.”

  His cousin’s words caused a rush of warmth through Cathal. He knew Philip supported him, but it was something different to hear him tell Flavian directly.

  “Thank you, Your Highness. I truly appreciate that. But what I need to say is about something else.” Flavian looked at Cathal for a moment, and Cathal squeezed his fingers, the chalky cast to Flavian’s pale gold skin scaring the happiness provoked by Philip’s words out of him.

  Flavian faced Philip and Amory again,
squaring his shoulders and sitting perfectly straight. “I need to tell you that Velia is spying for Ardunn.”

  The silence was abrupt and absolute. It stretched out, surrounding them, muffling everything.

  If Cathal had expected Flavian to say anything in particular—and he really hadn’t—it wouldn’t have been that Velia was a spy. Yes, they knew there had to be someone, but Cathal had been leaning more toward someone infiltrating the palace as a servant. He’d never suspected Velia might be their spy.

  “How long have you known?” Philip asked, startling Cathal, and the rest of them, if the way they all jumped was any indication. Philip rubbed Amory’s thigh as if in apology as Amory resettled himself on the arm of Philip’s chair.

  “She told me this morning.”

  It was afternoon, and Cathal wanted to demand why Flavian hadn’t come to him immediately. But Cathal knew why, and he couldn’t imagine what it took for Flavian to come to them. Or perhaps he could, the way Flavian looked. He twined his fingers through Flavian’s and held on. Flavian’s hand gripped his just as tightly.

  “What did she tell you? Did she say why she was sent here or what she’s looking for?” Philip asked, his voice firm but not unkind. He would understand what it took for Flavian to come to them, to betray someone he considered a friend.

  Flavian nodded and began to talk. He stuttered and stumbled over words at first, but he gained confidence as he talked, detailing what Velia had told him about her purpose in Tournai. He finished, “That’s all she said. That’s all I know.”

  “Thank you for telling us, Flavian,” Amory said in his gentle way.

  “I had to, Your Highness.”

  “She didn’t give you any indication whether Ardunn had anyone else in the palace,” Philip said.

  “No, Your Highness.”

  “All right.” Philip’s gaze flicked to Cathal. Cathal knew there were plans to be made, but Philip didn’t say anything to him. He looked back at Flavian. “Why did she tell you today, Flavian?”

  Flavian froze, and Cathal turned to him, concerned at the sudden clutch of his fingers on Cathal’s. It was a good question. If Velia hadn’t told Flavian her secrets before, and Cathal was certain she hadn’t, why did she tell him that morning? Something must have changed.

  “There was a reason, but it doesn’t pertain to what she’s doing,” Flavian answered Philip finally. “It’s personal to me.”

  “I have to know, Flavian. I don’t believe you have anything to do with what Velia is doing here, but if you keep this from me, you’re going to make me extremely suspicious.” Philip stared hard at Flavian. Cathal moved, perhaps to say something, perhaps to put himself between Flavian and the weight of that stare, but Philip shook his head sharply.

  Flavian must have seen, because he turned to Cathal with a small smile and shook his head as well. “It’s all right. She told me because she needed to warn me that my father and the emperor are searching for me.”

  More silence, this time stunned.

  “Does the emperor usually involve himself in the search for a son of a noble family who’s left home?” Amory asked after a moment, even though they all could guess the answer.

  “No—well, only if he has reasons for doing so.”

  “I take it the emperor has a reason,” Philip said.

  Flavian looked down at the sketchbook in his lap. “Apparently, he found out about my magical Talent and he wants it, me, so he can make use of it for the empire.”

  Cathal had no idea how he hadn’t thought of that possibility. Flavian’s Talent would be useful to a ruler, even more so to one not wholly beloved of his people. Cathal shouldn’t be surprised that the emperor of Ardunn wanted to use Flavian for his own ends.

  “How would your Talent be useful to the emperor?” Philip asked, continuing his questioning, gentle though it was. Cathal knew Philip had to, but he wished he could spare Flavian.

  Flavian tensed beside him.

  “Philip isn’t like the emperor,” Cathal told him, his voice low, the words meant for Flavian alone, but he knew the others heard.

  “I know,” Flavian said, spreading one hand flat over the cover of his sketchbook. Did that mean… had Flavian drawn Philip? “Your Highness, my magic is entwined with my art. When I draw someone, I can see the truth of the person—whether they’re trustworthy, for instance. What kind of person they are underneath. My art shows all of it.”

  “I can see how the emperor would want something like that under his control,” Philip said slowly. “How does it work?”

  “The actual magic? I don’t know. I’ve never been taught anything about it, but as for what you can see….” Flavian gently pulled his hand from Cathal’s and lifted the sketchbook. He opened it and laid it on Philip’s desk.

  Cathal leaned over to get a better look at the page, nearly falling out of his chair when Etan stepped up beside him to have a look. He’d forgotten Etan was in the room. Philip and Amory were leaning close as well, all of them studying the drawing in front of them. It was not a polished piece of art, but Flavian’s skill was plain to see even in the slightly rough sketch. But Flavian’s skill wasn’t what had them all staring at the page. Velia’s face smiled out at them. Flavian had captured the lines of her face, the curl of her hair perfectly. But he had also captured something else, and it had to be what Flavian had just spoken of: the core of Velia. Not evil but self-serving and deceptive. There were good things too—strong loyalty, for one. The essence of Velia almost shimmered off the page at them.

  “I’ve never seen anything like this. I’ve never heard of magic like this,” Amory said, his eyes wide, gaze fastened on the page.

  “Neither have I.” Philip was also still looking at the drawing.

  Cathal watched Flavian, who looked more worried than he had before if that was possible.

  “I don’t talk about it, Your Highness. And I don’t use it. I drew Velia today, because I had to know….” Flavian swallowed. “But I don’t want to see what’s in people’s hearts.”

  Philip fixed Flavian with a sharp look. He had to know what Flavian was saying, the line Flavian was laying down. Flavian would not be used for his Talent. Pride practically burst inside Cathal. Not that Cathal thought Philip would use Flavian. He didn’t need one of Flavian’s drawings to tell him Philip was better than the emperor.

  “I can understand that,” Philip said easily. He looked at Etan and Cathal. “We have plans to make, and we have to move quickly. Etan, will you get Captain Loriot, please?”

  Amory laid his hand on Philip’s shoulder, linking them as Etan left to do Philip’s bidding. “I don’t want Velia or the duke and duchess to hear we know about her before we can act. We’ll keep it between us for now, and you’ll stay here, Flavian, until we have them in custody.”

  “Yes, Your Highness.”

  “I need you out of the way, Flavian,” Philip told him, not unkindly. “I know you would be tempted to warn your friend, and I can’t let that happen, but I also want you out of harm’s way.”

  “Velia wouldn’t do anything to me. She warned me.”

  Cathal wondered if Flavian was being naive, given the self-interest in Velia’s picture. Self-preservation caused people to do all sorts of things they might not normally.

  “What do you need of me?” Cathal asked, both because he needed to know and because he wanted the focus off Flavian before an argument could begin.

  “We need to talk about how to apprehend Velia and her family without alerting them beforehand. And we need to know where they all are. I don’t want them slipping through our grasp. We need to take them all at once.” Philip glanced up at Amory and covered Amory’s hand on his shoulder with one of his own. “I want to bring in Uncle Umber as well. I need to know what he’s said to Willem.”

  Cathal nodded even as his gut churned. Questioning Father made sense, but he hated the idea of family turning traitor. A hand came to rest on his arm. Cathal turned to Flavian and smiled slightly to see the support
in Flavian’s eyes. He put his hand on top of Flavian’s, holding it there.

  “We’ll make our plans when Etan returns with Captain Loriot.” Philip sat back in his chair. “I will tell you this, though—you’re not marrying her now.”

  Cathal felt as though the laugh was forced out of him, short and slightly hysterical. He cut it off quickly and squeezed Flavian’s hand.

  Chapter 23

  TIME SEEMED to both speed up and slow down in turns for Flavian. He stayed in the princes’ private study as he was asked—told. He doubted he had any choice in the matter if he wanted to leave. Part of him did. Part of him wanted to run to Velia and warn her, just as Prince Philip feared he would. It was the part of him that was sick with guilt at telling the princes about Velia in the first place. The part that valued her friendship despite her actions and her deception.

  When Etan returned with the guard captain following him, Flavian moved from his chair to the small table in the corner Etan had occupied earlier. Cathal gave his hand a discreet squeeze—probably due to Captain Loriot’s presence, since he hadn’t had any qualms about holding Flavian’s hand in front of the princes and Etan. Flavian had a few qualms, not because the princes would see but because he didn’t want them to think he had to lean on Cathal. He didn’t want to lean on Cathal, but Flavian had to admit it had been nice to be able to do so.

  He sat in the corner, watching and listening to them make their plans. He should have tried not to listen, or at least to make it appear as if he wasn’t listening, but Prince Philip had to know that Flavian would hear everything. He was either about to be imprisoned right along with Velia—in which case, why hadn’t they done it already?—or he was trusted. The second possibility was stunning.

  It wasn’t just confidential matters of state he was given a glimpse of but also the relationship between the princes and Cathal and Etan, much more fascinating to him than the other. The four worked together seamlessly, always seeming to know what was needed, but Cathal was a bit out of step at times. Flavian didn’t understand why. Perhaps he would ask Cathal what had happened someday.